You're as nice as I remembered, Vi! Hmm, sfw ask then! Mc loves holding hands at every chance, what do the ro's think about that?
Anon, you're making me all...blushy and stuff. No compliments allowed. As a ginger, I am fully against blushing. I also have no soul so I'm mean. Very mean! Grrrrr.
Now, I love this ask. It's adorable.
Margaret: She's never been big on PDA. However, she does like holding hands in private. She would make a compromise if doing it in public was important to you. But ultimately would like to hold hands when it's just the two of you or people close to you are the only ones around.
F: F likes holding hands. They would be self-conscious for a while, knowing that they don't deserve you. But they would feel all giddy inside and find themselves smiling at every chance because their hand in yours just feels right.
Constantine: Constantine likes holding hands, although he would get frustrated if you try to hold his hand when he needs to be alert. How else is going to stay focused on protecting you? When holding hands, he's the type to randomly lift your hand up and place a kiss. Or rubbing gentle circles on your hand when he notices you're a little more stressed or maybe upset.
Felix: Felix is kind of indifferent about hand-holding. Well...until it actually happens. Then he doesn't want to let go. Instead, he wants to march around everywhere, your hand in his, gently pulling you closer when someone looks and giving them a look that says "mine."
Has anyone asked about the fake-out make-out scenario yet? I hope you have an amazing day 💛
Hi Anon! ☺️
I let your ask sit for a longgggg while, sorry anon. <3 forgive me pls.
I'm going to do Constantine today and do a different one tomorrow, etc! I'll just reblog and add :)
warning: kissing, touching, etc! (I think these are obvious but!)
uhm okay so I've never written one of these, idk if I did okay or if this wasn't 100% matching the scenario, hopefully I didn't break any rules? lol okay bye
Constantine (MC initiates)
You glance back over your shoulder, meeting Constantine's eyes as you force your feet to move. He shakes his head. "Don't stop running," he replies roughly.
You never excepted a visit to the capital to turn into a coup attempt. How did they know you were going to be here? It's only been four months since your brother abdicated and this was an unannounced outing.
You force the thoughts away and turn the corner, your footsteps pounding against the cobblestone. Up ahead, the doors to a brothel are open. You can hear the sounds of pleasure and poetry. You urge your feet forward and make for the entrance. "Follow me," you shout without looking.
Constantine's brows furrow but he does as you command. He'd follow you into a fire - a brothel isn't so different, is it?
You grab his hand as soon as he crosses the threshold, weaving you both around sweaty bodies full of intoxication and anticipation.
Once in the corner, you face each other, neither able to speak as you attempt to catch your breath. You start taking off his armor. "What are you doing?" He looks nervous as his eyes glance around, but he doesn't move to stop you.
You laugh softly, drawing his piercing blue gaze back to your face. "Your armor isn't exactly inconspicuous."
He nods. "You think they'll check in here?"
"You trust me, right?" You throw the last piece of armor behind the settee as heavy footsteps hammer their way toward the brothel.
"Of course," he says, swallowing hard.
"Good," you reply, pushing him into a seat. His eyes widen and he opens his mouth but you climb on top of him as the rebels stream through the door. There's no time to think so you crash your lips against his.
Your heart hammers in your ears. If they find you, at least you can say you went out with the feeling of his lips on yours. With the comfort of his hand in your hair, pulling you closer. Not that you care about any of that. But everyone should die in peace, right?
If this wasn't life or death, you'd almost believe he wants this. You'd almost believe you want this.
Focus, you tell yourself. Focus on the environment, not his rough lips gently caressing yours.
You can hear the lyre again and the sounds of lovers returning to their activities so you pull away. Your lungs needed air regardless. Constantine stares at you for a moment and you stare back.
"Uhm, thank you," you blurt out.
He tilts his head, "Thank...you?"
Your eyes widen and you move away, turning away to grab his armor. "For trusting me. I'm sorry for...that. I needed to get them off our trail." You take a breath, steeling your face before turning around to hand him his armor.
He takes it quickly, his face giving nothing away. "It was a brilliant plan, Your Highness."
Neither of you speaks until you reach the castle to alert the others of your escape.
There's still some time left on the poll but Constantine is clearly going to win (big shocker lol). Here is the first short story I ever wrote for Patreon and for Next in Line. I hope you enjoy <3
Warning: violence, blood, death, war
The world spins as Constantine flies from his horse. A kaleidoscope of blue, gold, red, and black swirls in his vision. Until it's just black. The sounds of the battlefield have been replaced by ringing. A groan escapes his lips as he tries to push himself up with his left hand while his right-hand searches for the hilt of his sword.
“Looking for this, little Knight?”
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. He stumbles up and turns around, his icy blue gaze landing on an Arandale soldier who grins as he spins the missing sword. Constantine blinks several times, hoping the world will stop spinning.
It does after a few seconds and he spits, blood landing on the ground around him. Even after all this time, he hasn’t gotten used to the way iron tastes. “Wouldn’t be much of an Elite Guard Knight if I need that to kick your sorry ass,” he growls at the soldier.
The soldier’s eyes narrow, rage rolling off him in waves. He sticks the Kinght’s sword in the ground, drawing his own from his hip. “Let’s put that theory to the test,” he replies, a smug smirk on his face.
Constantine takes a deep breath, tuning out the sounds of the war around him. Until he can no longer hear the clashing of swords or the dying cries of his comrades. He sends a silent prayer to Gaia. This could not be the moment before his death. He would not allow it.
The thud of the other soldier’s footsteps float to Constantine’s ears as the soldier moves toward him and throws his weight into his sword, but the Knight moves at the last moment, leaving both of them off balance on this foreign land.
And although the young Knight was larger than this other man, he was still nimble enough to kick the soldier’s hand, knocking the sword to the ground. The soldier lent down to retrieve his sword, but Constantine grabbed the man’s outstretched arm, locking it in place as he wrapped his other arm around the soldier’s neck.
The man struggled, his gasping echoing in the air around the pair. He desperately sought to fight the Knight’s arm away with his free one but it wasn’t long until Constantine had control of both arms and held them behind the soldier’s back. Then came the sound of snapping and the soldier’s neck went limp.
Constantine drops the body and hurries to retrieve his sword before looking around the bloody field in search of his horse. He finds her, her eyes fluttering as she tries to fight the inevitable. An agonized sigh leaves his lips as he kneels in front of her, his steel in one hand. “I’m sorry, girl,” he whispers as he runs his free hand through her mane. Nausea rises in his throat but he pushes it down.
He stands and swiftly plunges his sword through her chest. Then he turns on his heels and strides away. This was far from over and he knew that to linger even a moment on the pain of the necessary deed was to invite death.
One slain enemy after another turns into hours until finally, the light begins to give way to the night. The sounds of the dying are less frequent now. Still present but if he closes his eyes at the right time, he could have the illusion of peace. And he did just that as he embraced the shadow of a tree. But a strangled screech causes his eyes to snap open. Flames fill his vision as he rushes toward the sound.
A pair of distraught eyes meet him across the wall of flames. Two soldiers are circling a young man. Constantine runs through the flames, his armor and speed protecting him for the most part, although his cloak succumbs to the flames. The boy’s eyes widen in surprise and one of the soldiers turns to look, their eyes landing on the Knight.
They smirk as they turn their body toward him. Constantine wastes no time attempting a blow. But it falls short. As the minutes tick by, the sound of the growing flames knot his stomach. He glances over to see the boy barely holding off the other soldier, who towers over him. The Knight clenches his jaw as he directs his attention back to the one in front of him. He parries a strike, arms aching. But this is no time to think of rest. Or his next slumber will be eternal.
A surge of adrenaline propels him forward and the tip of his sword plunges through the neck of his opponent. He moves around the body, heart pounding in his ears.
The boy stumbles from the weight of the enemy’s weapon coming down on his sword and he falls to the ground. The soldier moves in for the final blow but Constantine intervenes from the side, knocking the sword out the soldier’s hand and then shouldering him hard in the chest. The Knight takes advantage of the soldier falling to the ground and sticks a hand out to the boy.
But just as the boy stands, the Arandale soldier grabs a dagger from his boot and plunges it into Constantine’s abdomen, in a place of weakness that his cloak previously kept hidden from view. He drops to one of his knees, a hand pressed against the gushing blood.
The boy gasps, eyes wide as he watches the Knight’s blood spilling over his fingers. Constantine swallows, only able to hear his heart in overdrive as he grabs his dropped sword with his other hand and thrusts it behind him without looking.
It makes contact with the soldier’s stomach. Constantine looks into the boy’s eyes. “End this.”
The boy’s eyes widen and he looks behind the Knight, at the struggling soldier who is preparing a final blow of his own.
“Now,” Constantine growls.
The boy heeds his command, tears rolling down his cheeks as he parries the soldier’s swing before his shaking fingers tighten around the hilt and drive it into his heart.
The Knight looks over his shoulder, a groan escaping his lips. He watches as blood pools around the fallen body. When he’s certain the chest is not rising, he uses his free hand to push himself up and turns to the boy, whose face is full of anguish.
Constantine sighs, remembering his first kill. And his second. And his third. And how it took years for him to stop seeing the faces of each new one when he closes his eyes at night. But there are still many faces he cannot forget. He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What’s your name?” he asks gently.
The boy blinks and turns to look at him. “James…just James. And yours, Sir?”
The Knight smiles a little. “Just Constantine is fine, James.”
James nods and then looks back at the body before turning his gaze back to the Knight. “Thank you for saving my life.” Before Constantine can respond, James' eyes move to his bloody hand. “Let’s not linger, you need medical attention.”
“We should find some horses,” Constantine supplies.
“Okay, I’ll lead the way,” James says.
The Knight chuckles. “Sure you know your way back to camp?”
James’ lips twitch. “I’m not an imbecile.”
“Hmph.”
James rolls his eyes and starts walking in the direction of camp. They stick to the shadows until they come across two Arandale soldiers resting with their horses. After a successful sneak attack, the two ride off toward Castelon’s camp.
A sigh escapes Constantine’s lips as his vision begins to blur. James looks over at the Knight, his brow knitted. “Just a bit longer, okay?”
“Yeah,” Constantine responds, his voice weaker than he intends.
A few agonizing minutes later they come to a stop. Constantine lets out a grunt as his feet hit the ground. James wraps an arm around him and insists that Constantine lean on him. “You sure?”
James huffs. “Yes, I’m sure. Do I really look that weak?!” Constantine’s lips twitch, but James cut him off before he can respond. “You know what? Don’t even answer that.”
“James! There you are.”
An authoritative voice grabs their attention. Constantine’s breath catches in his throat when his eyes land on the crown sitting atop the man’s graying hair. The Knight pulls away from James and drops to one knee, biting his lip to contain the pain as he sticks his sword in the ground. “Your Majesty,” he says, voice dripping in awe as he stares at the sandy ground.
“I see you’ve met my son,” the King says. Constantine’s head snaps up and his eyes land on James. Both shock and pride surge through him. He had protected his future King. And not many could say the same.
James smiles at Constantine as he grabs his arm and pulls him up. “Save me would be more accurate, father.”
The King beams at the Knight and gives him an enthusiastic clap on the shoulder. “Then we shall drink in my tent tonight,” he announces, before taking his leave.
After escorting Constantine to the field hospital, James refuses to leave his side and waits for the doctor to tend to his wounds. “You don’t have to stay, Your Highness,” the Knight tells him.
James chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare leave my hero behind. Besides, my father wants to drink with you after this.”
Constantine glances at the Prince. When he decided to become a Knight, he never imagined that he would ever cross paths with his King, or his future King for that matter. He’d only hoped to raise his station in life by fighting for his kingdom. “I assumed he was only being polite, Your Highness.”
James grins. “My father doesn’t do ‘just polite.’ And the Highness stuff gets old real fast, stop it, would you?”
The Knight shakes his head and turns his gaze away from the Prince. “As you wish…”
A couple hours later, James and Constantine are walking toward the King’s tent. The doctor had advised Constantine to rest because he’d lost so much blood. But he couldn’t do that. When would he ever again have the opportunity to drink with his King? He only hoped he wouldn’t pass out from exhaustion. The other Knights would never let him live it down if that was the case.
But he needn’t worry about that - because the night was only full of ale and stories of Castelon’s royal family. A few hours where he forgot there was a war waiting to be waged again when Aurora rose the sun.
The King laughs and takes a sip of his ale. “That’s the perils of twins, Constantine. They gang up on you! Keep that in mind in case you ever have children.”
The skin around Constantine’s eyes crinkles as he takes another sip from his own mug. “I shall heed your words, Your Majesty.”
“Please,” James says, “my father over exaggerates. Besides, being a twin is the best thing about life.”
Constantine raises an eyebrow. “And why do you say that?” he asks. The King’s eyes bore into James.
James looks down into this mug, a small smile on his young face. “Because I have someone to fight for and to live for.”
Silence wraps around Constantine as he considers the Prince’s words. He’d heard that siblings could be protective of one another, but he was an only child so he didn’t know what that felt like. But there’s something else about James’ words that leaves him questioning the meaning. “But don’t you have the throne to fight for? To live for?”
James glances up from the drink, his expressionless eyes meeting the Knight’s curious blue ones. “The throne is only meant for us to die for, my dear hero.”
My Patreon is currently paused due to my focus on completing chapter 2 so it's not possible to subscribe at this time.
I'm not sure if this was already answered but how would the ROs react to a drunk MC accidentally confessing their feelings?
F: F would immediately begin confessing their own feelings before realizing you're not going to remember any of this in the morning and they would sigh. Then they'd chuckle to themself. Not today but soon.
Felix: His heart would skip a beat. He'd been trying to figure out his own feelings for you. But...you feel the same? He can't help the soft smile that finds its way to his lips. Just before he leaves you for the night, he'd whisper in your ear. "I care you for as well. More than I should."
Margaret: On the outside, Margaret would laugh and carry on. But she's freaking out internally. Feelings? For me? Her eyes would gaze at you. You'd catch her eye and grin. She'd laugh a little as she shakes her eyes. My lovely fool.
Constantine: He would freeze for a moment in shock and then ask, "What was that?" If you confirm what he thought he heard, it'd be hard to keep a smile off of his face. He wouldn't bring it up when you're sober but it would always be on his mind. It wouldn't take much longer for him to work up the courage to confess his own feelings to you.
Starting off the week by giving you the opportunity to look at this gorgeous Constantine art that @enspey created for our first commissioned piece for Next in Line.
I can't stop looking at him -
send help ~
To those of you who love a shaved Constantine, don't worry you can still headcanon that ;)
What would Constantine do if he saw his knights showing off in front of mc, the more bold flirting with mc and them playing along, mischevious smile on their face, maybe one of those knights offers mc to feel up his arms, his very muscular arms 💦
Oooo do you like jealousy, anon? Cause I sure do!!! Some mature language below in case someone doesn’t wanna read that :)
————-
Constantine wipes the sweat from his brow and then stretches out, sweeping his gaze across the training field where his Knights are conditioning. His eyes land on a Knight whose trying to subtly flex and show off for someone. He chuckles and rolls his eyes.
Then he takes a good look at the other person and realizes it’s you.
His blue eyes darken as he narrows them. “What the hell..” he mutters. He starts to walk toward the two of you then his eyes widen when your fingertips graze the other Knight’s bicep. He can hear your laugh from here.
His heart races and his feet make haste. He’s almost to you when he realizes he doesn’t have a plan. Fuck!
He rips his shirt off and throws it on the ground as he approaches, straightening his back. He comes to a stop next to the Knight and glares at him. The Knight raises his eyebrows. Constantine doesn’t look at you but crosses his arms. “Do you think this is training, Knight?”
Fear flashes in the Knight’s eyes. “N-No,” he manages to choke out.
Constantine narrows his eyes. “No, ‘what’?”
The Knight’s eyes widen. “Sir! No, Sir!”
Constantine can see you looking at his arms from the corner of his eye, so he tightens up, hoping you’ll enjoy the show. “Then what the hell are you still doing here?” he growls at the Knight.
The Knight turns to scurry off but pauses and looks back at Constantine. “Uh, Sir?”
Constantine sighs. “What?”
“Where’s your shirt?”
Constantine scoffs. “Real Knights don’t need a shirt. Now fuck off.”
What would the ROs do/say if they came home after being away for a week a saw MC sleep with a shirt of theirs, or just something that has their scent because they're lonely at night?
omg this is sooooo precious!
F: F’s gaze falls to your sleeping form where you lie with their shirt on. They can’t help but smile softly. They have never denied how lovesick they are for you. But they have insecurities and have made mistakes…which means they often wonder if they’re actually enough for you. But here you are, curled up in the bed with their shirt. They have never felt more sure of your love than in this moment.
Felix: Felix was surprised to see you sleeping in his shirt. He leaned against the doorframe and watched you for a few minutes. He’s not always good at showing his emotions and sometimes he doesn’t understand them. But you make him feel things that he’s never felt before. You make him see the colors in the world - when all he saw before was black and white. He bites his lip as he consider how lovely you look in his shirt with the moonlight bathing your face.
Constantine: Constantine’s breath catches when he sees you sleeping in his shirt. And his favorite one, too. He can’t help but think that you look better in it than him. He hates the idea of you being lonely at night. If it was up to him, his every night would be spent by your side. He pulls out the little painting of you that he stole from James. While you had his shirt, he had this to gaze upon. Because he was lonely, too. Constantine smiles as he tucks it away and turns back to you - nothing can compare to looking upon your brilliance in this moment.
Margaret: Margaret’s head tilted to the side when she saw you asleep with her cloak draped around you. Had you missed her as much as she missed you? She was wondering why the cloak wasn’t in her bag when she reached her destination. She laughs softly. It all makes sense now, you’d nicked it when she wasn’t looking. But that’s okay, because she’d done something similar. She was still wearing one of your shirts when she crawled into bed beside you.
this is very unlikely to happen but theoretically, if the mc were to fall out of love with the ros, what would be their reaction once they realize this?
Ummm okay so what if the ros got hurt and before they lost consciousness they hear mc crying saying that their sorry and that they love them, what are the ros last thought before they fall asleep.
And if I could ask, this can be a separate one if it helps, the Ro's wake up to a tear streaked face mc asleep next to them and they remember what the mc said
Sorry for the long ask 😓
Sorry for how long this took. Seriously :')
So, I'm going to assume this is before they have confessed feelings <3
Constantine:
Constantine’s eyes flutter but he’s aware of your warmth. And your words. Don't cry, my love, I'll be fine.
******
Constantine's eyes flutter open and he blinks rapidly, becoming aware of the world around him. Becoming aware of you. Without thinking, he reaches his fingers out to brush your cheek. Who made you cry so much? And -
Your eyes flutter open and he remembers your words. Your confession. His rapid heartbeat refuses to slow. "You're awake," you say, your voice breaking.
"I am," he replies. He holds you face with both of his hands and say, "And I want you to know, I love you, too, MC. I'm sorry I didn't say it before."
Felix:
Felix smiles at your words. I knew you couldn't resist me. I can't resist you, either. If he dies, his only regret now is never having said those three words.
******
Felix's hazel eyes recognize the colors of the world around him. And then you. He can't look away from your sleeping face, from your stained cheeks. A hoarse chuckle leaves his lips.
Your startle awake, your eyes landing on him before you relax. "Felix," you whisper, reaching out a hand. He smirks. "I didn't scare you, did I?"
You try to glare at him, but you can't. Instead, you move closer, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tight as he presses a kiss against your head. "Don't worry, love, you won't get rid of me so easily. Not after you've stolen my heart."
F:
F tries to fight the blackness that grips them. But they cannot. They try to hold onto your words, to use that to stay, but to no avail. It's you. It's always been you.
******
F stares at the ceiling as they wait for their eyes to adjust. And it takes that long for them to remember what happened. And your words. They remember! And their heart beats rapidly as they replay it in their mind. Perhaps it was a figment of their broken mind?
They sit up and turn, seeing you curled up. Vulnerable, your cheeks red and damp. No. You really said those words. "MC?" they ask softly, afraid of waking you but yearning to look into your eyes.
You wake, eyes wide, and stumble up, moving closer. "You're awake," you say, unsure.
F chuckles lightly. "Yes," they whisper, taking your hand gently in theirs. They place a soft kiss and say, "I'll always find you. In this life and the next. I'll always love you..."
Margaret:
Margaret's brown eyes struggle to open at your words. Words she feared hearing. Words that she loved hearing. Damn you. Damn you for making me love you.
******
As soon as Margaret becomes aware of the world around her, she rushes up, groaning as she slows from the realization that it was a bad idea to do so.
You wake at the sound of her pain and jump up, pushing her back into the bed. You shake your head at her. "By the gods, Margaret. Have you no care for yourself?"
Margaret smiles at your worry. "I care about few things, darling." She takes your hand in hers and rubs a circle with her thumb. "But you...you are what I care for most."
